Chapter 19 – Into the Ruined Province

The night air was thick with the scent of damp earth and salt as Elara, Vesper, and Aerin made their way toward the eastern cliffs. A crescent moon hung low in the sky, barely illuminating the jagged path ahead.

Vesper led the way, his movements effortless as he weaved through the shadows. “Stay close,” he murmured. “The tunnel entrance isn’t far.”

Elara followed, her heart hammering in her chest. The Ruined Province was more than just dangerous—it was cursed. No one who ventured there uninvited returned alive.

Aerin’s presence at her side was a silent anchor, but she could feel the tension in him. He didn’t trust Vesper, and he certainly didn’t trust this plan.

Neither did she.

But there was no turning back.

As they reached the edge of the cliffs, Vesper crouched near a patch of overgrown brush. He pushed aside the tangled vines, revealing a narrow stone passage leading into the darkness. “This will take us beneath the border walls. It’s been abandoned for decades, but some of the old traps may still be active.”

Elara exchanged a glance with Aerin, then nodded. No hesitation. No fear.

She stepped into the tunnel first.

⸻

The air grew colder the deeper they descended. The only sound was the faint dripping of water from above, echoing off the ancient stone walls.

“Remind me again why we’re trusting the man who thrives in places like this?” Aerin muttered under his breath.

Vesper’s voice was laced with amusement. “Because without me, you’d be dead five steps in.”

Aerin scoffed. “And yet somehow, that doesn’t bring me comfort.”

Elara ignored them both, her eyes scanning the walls for any sign of movement. She had read about this place in old texts—a labyrinth of forgotten magic and lost souls.

Then—a whisper.

She froze. “Did you hear that?”

Vesper stilled beside her, his expression unreadable.

Aerin’s hand moved to his blade. “We’re not alone.”

A gust of cold wind rushed through the tunnel, snuffing out their torches.

Then—a voice, low and hollow.

“You should not have come.”

⸻

A thick silence fell over the tunnel, pressing against Elara’s chest like unseen hands. The whisper had been soft, almost coaxing, but it carried a weight that sent a chill down her spine.

“You should not have come.”

Elara’s pulse thundered in her ears. The air was still, but she could feel something shifting in the dark. Watching. Waiting.

Aerin reached for his blade, but Vesper caught his wrist, shaking his head. “Steel won’t help you here,” he murmured.

The voice returned—closer this time. “Turn back before the curse claims you.”

Elara swallowed hard. A test. This place had been abandoned for decades, yet something still lingered here, guarding its secrets.

She squared her shoulders. “We don’t have time for riddles,” she called into the dark. “Show yourself.”

A moment passed. Then—a flicker of movement.

Pale, spectral figures emerged from the tunnel walls like mist forming into shapes. Ghosts. Their hollowed-out faces and empty eyes flickered with magic, remnants of those who had died within these cursed tunnels.

Aerin tensed beside her. “Elara, we need to move—”

One of the ghosts lifted a skeletal hand, pointing directly at her. “Blood of the royal house,” it rasped. “Bound by fate, doomed by prophecy.”

Vesper’s expression turned unreadable, his jaw tightening. “We need to keep moving.”

Elara hesitated. “What do they mean?”

The ghosts whispered as one, their voices weaving together like a mournful hymn.

“One must die for the other to thrive.”

The prophecy.

Elara felt ice settle in her veins. She had read those words before, spoken in hushed voices by seers, but hearing them now—here—was different.

A sudden gust of cold wind rushed past them, carrying the weight of a warning. The ghosts’ hollow forms began to unravel, their whispers fading back into the stone.

Then the tunnel trembled. The ground beneath them cracked.

“Run,” Vesper ordered.

Elara didn’t argue.

They sprinted through the tunnel as the walls crumbled behind them, shadows chasing their every step. Dust filled the air, choking out the last remnants of light. The tunnel was collapsing.

Aerin grabbed Elara’s wrist, pulling her forward. “We’re almost there—!”

A sharp, unnatural shriek tore through the dark, and suddenly, a force ripped Elara off her feet.

She gasped as something unseen yanked her backward into the abyss.

Elara’s scream echoed through the collapsing tunnel as invisible hands yanked her into the darkness. Dust and stone blurred her vision, and the frantic shouts of Vesper and Aerin faded beneath the roaring chaos.

Her back slammed against something cold and unyielding—a wall, a column, she couldn’t tell. Her breath hitched as pain jolted through her ribs. Before she could gather her bearings, the unseen force tightened around her wrists and ankles, pinning her in place.

A whisper slid past her ear, neither warm nor cold, neither alive nor dead.

“You should not have come.”

Elara fought against the unseen bonds, but they held firm. Her heart pounded as the shadows shifted before her, twisting and writhing like smoke given life. Then, they took form.

A wraith.

It stood just inches away, its figure barely distinguishable from the darkness surrounding it. Hollow eyes peered through the void, fixing on her with an unreadable intensity. Though it had no solid shape, she could feel its presence pressing into her very soul.

“Blood of the royal house,” it rasped, the words threading into her mind rather than spoken aloud. “You carry the curse. You carry the prophecy.”

Elara’s throat tightened. “What do you mean?” she demanded, though her voice wavered.

The wraith tilted its head as if amused.

“Your heart beats for two, but fate allows for only one.”

Her breath hitched. The prophecy. The very thing that had bound her and Vesper in an inescapable web since their first meeting. The very thing she had tried to ignore, tried to fight against.

“One must die for the other to thrive,” she whispered.

The wraith leaned closer. “A choice must be made. Soon.”

“No.” Elara clenched her fists. “I won’t let fate decide for me.”

The wraith chuckled, a sound like wind through brittle bones. “Fate has already chosen.”

A sudden force crashed into the wraith, dispersing it into a swirl of shadow.

“Elara!”

She gasped as Vesper emerged through the dust, his dagger glowing with magic as he tore through the remnants of the wraith. Aerin followed close behind, his sword drawn, eyes blazing with urgency.

“Elara, are you hurt?” Aerin demanded, gripping her shoulders.

“I—” Her pulse was erratic, her body trembling. But before she could answer, the wraith’s voice slithered through the tunnel one last time.

“The sacrifice is near.”

Then the shadows collapsed.

The unseen force holding her in place vanished, and Elara stumbled forward—straight into Vesper’s arms. His grip tightened around her, steadying her, but his expression was unreadable.

For a long moment, none of them spoke.

Then Vesper exhaled sharply. “We need to leave. Now.”

Elara nodded, but her mind was far from the present.

A choice must be made.

The wraith’s words echoed in her skull, relentless.

Fate had already chosen.

But what if she refused to obey?